Final Fantasy VI: The Abridged Series
by Quatermass
Summary: What happens when you take a beloved, practically sanctified JRPG, and put it through the wringer, Abridged Series-style? This, possibly. This is "Final Fantasy VI" with the brakes cut and sanity left at the door. This is "Final Fantasy VI: The Abridged Series"...
1. Foreword

**FOREWORD**

When I first started watching _Dragonball Z Abridged_ (which was shortly after Season 1 ended, but I can't remember whether Season 2 had started), it was a revelation. To this day, with the exception of two of LittleKuriboh's works, my firm favourites in the various and manifold Abridged Series are all made by Team Four Star. This includes the recently created _Final Fantasy VII Machinabridged_ , despite a couple of jokes early on that were more than a little on the nose.

Some have been writing Abridged Series on this website. And I have decided to try and throw my particular hat into the ring. As I have no skills with video capturing or editing, might as well do it in prose.

Anyway, onto disclaimers. Firstly, there will be spoilers for _Final Fantasy VI_. You have been warned.

Secondly, there will be a LOT of annotations. I will not put up with any whining about it.

Thirdly, this is an M-rated fanfic for violence, sexual references, and coarse language. Oh, and toilet humour.

Fourthly, this is a **_parody_** of the story of _Final Fantasy VI_. I'm taking a cricket bat and a flamethrower to the established story. Note how the category is marked as 'Parody/Humour'.

Finally, the following is a fan-written parody. _Final Fantasy VI_ is the property of its various owners. Please support the official release. Otherwise…you. Ultros. A locked room. Need I say more?


	2. Chapter 1: Murder of Miners is a Serious

**CHAPTER 1:**

 **MURDER OF MINERS IS A SERIOUS OFFENCE**

 _Why is it that important events tend to take place a thousand years between, especially in the storyline of a videogame that is being parodied by this fanfic? Well, I guess it's because people love big round numbers, in the same way that many a man loves the sight of big round breasts._

 _Anyway, a thousand years ago, a trio of deities decided to have a war. Now, you'd think when gods decide to duke it out on a scale that can level mountains and leave patches of land that will make you sterile when you walk through them (and that's if you're lucky), that they're doing so for a good reason. A just reason._

 _Actually, that was far from the case here. One of them had eaten the last bit of ambrosia in the fridge, and the stores had closed._

 _Anyway, they fought to the death (which, considering that they were immortal, was sort of funny), and turned many a human being into their magical footsoldiers (which was only funny if you had a sense of humour darker than the event horizon of a black hole). To recount the details of their world-spanning brawl is both boring and giving attention to a trio of effectively spoilt children who had world-devastating power._

 _Long story short, they were given a time-out by their parents. Being immortal deities, a time-out meant being petrified in stone for some millennia. However, their parents neglected to clean up after their children, and their children's formerly human soldiers, now magical beasts known as Espers, began warring against people who wanted to suck them dry. Of their magic._

 _So, another day, another apocalyptic war tearing into the world. Eventually, the Espers thought, "Fuck this, we're out," and retreated to the hidden realm where the Warring Triad were having their time out. And with them, magic, more or less, faded from the world._

 _But it didn't go away. Not completely._

 _Civilisation began to grow again. And without magic, technology emerged in its stead. Luckily, the smartphone has yet to be invented by the time this story comes around, or any kind of computer or computer network. Otherwise, they would be indulging in social media and onanism._

 _Unfortunately, one pastime that had been invented had never gone out of style: war. What is it good for? Well, absolutely nothing, so people say. And yet, it happens. This time, it was happening because some old fart with a big beard and an even bigger ego by the name of Gestahl decided that he wanted to own the entire world. Both in the sense of possessing the thing, as well as having it defeated and prostrated at his feet. He didn't get enough toys when he was little, you see._

 _He wasn't the only guy driving the war, though this guy didn't come into play until just under a decade ago. Imagine some J-RPG ripoff version of the Joker, give him the fashion sense of the sixth incarnation of the Doctor, give him the petulant temper of Joffrey Baratheon, and give him the sheer love of chaos and destruction of Randall Flagg, and you have Kefka Palazzo, Esquire._

 _Anyway, while our story can begin any time, let's begin at the coalmine town of Narshe, where the local pastimes are mining, singing in choirs, and calling each other 'boyo'. And who are about to have a trio of Gestahl Empire soldiers wearing Magitek armour about to invade them…_

* * *

"Do you know what they call a sheep tied up to a post in Narshe is?"

A sigh before the punchline. "An entertainment centre. Biggs, your jokes are getting worse than Kefka's."

"Aw, c'mon, Wedge, nobody's jokes can be worse than Kefka's."

"Well, they can't have more gore, anyway."

"Of course." A pause. "Goddammit, I need to piss. Can't they install a urinal in these things?"

"Urinals within Magitek Armour are unhygienic and hard to maintain." This last was spoken in a creepy monotone, by a voice that hadn't spoken yet. The last two voices were those of men, but this was the voice of a young woman. "In addition, urinating in public contravenes Section M1 of the Gestahl Empire's Rules of Engagement, save for when it is performed on the corpses of enemies of the Great and Glorious Gestahl Empire."

The helmeted head of Biggs turned to his commander, and said, "Creepy as fuck, or what? Can we stop when we get to the observation point, though? I badly need to go."

"Again?" Wedge groaned. "Seriously, you're like a kid who's got an IV drip filled with soft drink. You're banned from having any coffee!"

"Fine by me, Wedge, I only drink tea."

Their companion, a young woman with long green hair and a blank expression normally on those in front of a TV or a computer, said, "Kefka does not let me drink any caffeinated beverage. I do not understand why."

Biggs and Wedge looked at each other as their Magitek Armours trudged over the landscape, and shuddered at the memory…

* * *

 _"I AM THE GOD OF HELLFIRE, AND I BRING YOU FIRE!"_

 _As the green-haired teenager, not yet with a Slave Crown upon her noggin, unleashed fire spells left, right, and centre in the training grounds, Kefka looked on. Not with pride or joy, despite the fact that he loved to see such destruction. But jealousy, jealousy and anger that the girl was destroying things he wanted to destroy…and she was doing a much better job than he was!_

 _No matter what eventuated from this day, Kefka vowed, he was not letting her anywhere near a cup of coffee ever again…_

* * *

They soon arrived at a snowy, icy outcrop of rock overlooking Narshe, whereupon Biggs leapt from his Magitek Armour, only to nearly fall off a cliff in his eagerness to commence micturition. "Shit!" he snarled, before, upon regaining his balance, undid his fly and began relieving himself over the side. _Let it go, let it go, you can't hold it back anymore_ , sang a perversely apposite song in his head. He didn't know where the hell it came from.

As he did so, he mused, "Hey, in this weather, do you think this stuff'll freeze before it hits the bottom?"

"Who cares?" Wedge said. "I'm not the one with a nervous bladder."

"No, you have a cowardly tongue," Biggs retorted. "Every time you're afraid, you scream like a little girl. You scream at pitches dogs can hear."

"You take that back!" Wedge snarled.

"No, he is correct," the green-haired girl said in her creepy monotone. "Your scream can reach a maximum pitch of 40 kilohertz(1), and has been noted to cause dogs around Vector to wince in pain."

"Shut up, bitch!" Wedge snarled.

"My name is Terra Branford. Bitch is a noun, not a name."

"I said, shut up, bitch."

"Wedge, you have to use her name for the Slave Crown to work properly," Biggs said, zipping up his fly, and clambering back into the Magitek Armour.

"Okay. Shut up, Terra!" In the silence that followed, Wedge asked Biggs, "Aren't you going to wash your hands after relieving yourself?"

"The way I see it, that's the fault of whoever didn't install a urinal and sink in this machine," Biggs said. "Besides, I wash my hands twice a week, whether I need to or not."

Again, silence fell, and once again, Wedge broke it. "…I am NOT accepting any chips you want to share with me ever again."

* * *

Not long ago, being part of the Militia of Narshe was seen as a relatively cushy deal. True, one had to be fit enough to fight against monsters and the like, but it was often seen as a way for those who had had enough of mining to have a temporary holiday, so to speak. Unfortunately, as the Gestahl Empire became more expansionist, the militia was trained somewhat more arduously.

It wasn't enough.

You know the old saying 'like a hot knife through butter'? That pretty much described the progress of the three Magitek Armour-riders through Narshe. Only with less melted butter and more melted flesh.

As they finally reached the entrance of the mines, Wedge halted, and murmured, "I love the smell of Magitek in the morning. Smells like…victory."

"And burning flesh," Biggs said.

"And excrement," Terra said in her dull, deadpan tone after a brief sniff.

"Why would Magitek smell like excrement?" Wedge asked, knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

"Uh, I kicked over an outside toilet on the way here. Sorry. Seriously, though, haven't these guys ever heard of indoor plumbing?" Biggs complained.

* * *

At that moment, the Elder of Narshe, a great believer in all things traditional (like a wooden fire as opposed to coal, no central heating, and, of course, no indoor plumbing) was waddling, nearly blind, wholly deaf, and more than a little senile, to his outside toilet. The rest of the governing body of Narshe, such as it was, had seen fit to not tell him about the pending invasion. Well, not after trying, and receiving a response along the line of "THE MAGITEK SCIENTISTS WANT MY BLOOD!" Which was one of his more frequent senile utterances, rather than a statement of fact, they felt.

So he was understandably surprised when he found his outside toilet a shattered ruin of ornately carved wood (hey, it may be a toilet, but no reason not to have a beautiful-looking one). He stared at it for a moment, ignoring the groaning in pain and dead bodies that were just nearby. He could have screamed in anger or dismay.

Instead, with a philosophical and mildly annoyed harrumph, he turned back to head back home, and muttered, "Bloody vandals. Looks like I'll need to get the ol' bedpan out…" And once more, he ignored the corpses of the dead, and the bodies of the dying and the agonised, as he headed back home...

* * *

"Just wipe your feet on the ground, okay?" Wedge said.

* * *

As they looked at the melting remains of the monster they had just killed through a massive application of Magitek, Wedge wrinkled his nose at it. "They sent…a fucking…snail against us."

Biggs peered at the gooey mess on the ground. "Uh, technically, it is, well, _was_ a whelk."

"They sent a fucking _snail_ against us. Okay, it can eat lightning and crap thunder, but it doesn't detract from the fact that that thing could have sufficed for a hundred meals at my favourite restaurant at Vector!"

Biggs blinked, before looking at Wedge with even more disgust and horror than he had towards the first boss of the story. "You **_eat_** snails?"

"It's called escargot, Biggs! Bit of butter, bit of garlic, mm-mm! Lovely stuff. Besides, they eat my lettuce, I eat them. That's the circle of life!"

"Actually, the Circle of Life is a song from the Disney film known as _The Lion King_ ," Terra said in her monotone.

After a moment, Wedge said, "The fuck she's talking about? I've never heard of a film called that, never mind fucking Disney!"

"She sometimes speaks like that. Kefka told me that it's a condition, known as Tangential Mentality Cross-Dimensional Reference Disorder, or as he liked to call it, Deadpool Syndrome," Biggs said. "The other day, she said something like 'The Angels Have the Phone Box'. And those are far from the weirdest things she has uttered."

"Wrackspurts," Terra said in her monotone.

"See what I mean?" Biggs asked.

Wedge snorted. "Well, let's get to that Esper. It shouldn't be far now. Then, once we've figured out a way to get it back to Vector, I'm stopping for a nice meal of escargot at the next town that has it."

"Why?" Biggs asked.

"The smell of that thing cooking's put cravings into my head."

"…You're weird," Biggs said.

"And you have poor personal hygiene."

* * *

They soon came across the Esper, frozen in a block of ice, looking like the bastard mutant offspring of an eagle and a snake, and massive to boot. "I've got a bad feeling about this," Wedge muttered, feeling apprehensive all of a sudden. "Why do I feel like that I'm about to die?"

 _Oh, that's nothing to worry about_.

"Oh, really? Thanks, I…wait, who said that?!" Wedge demanded.

 _Oh, so sorry, I haven't had visitors lately. The miners got scared after I spoke to them, so I shut up. But you guys, wow, I love the armour. Hey, wait a moment, is that Maduin you have with you there?_

Biggs blinked. "Maduin? Hey, who are you? Show yourself!"

 _Oh, be quiet. Ooh, so that isn't Maduin, but his offspring. Ooh, he had a lovely daughter. Nice hair colour, green. And…wait, what the fuck is this? Did you put a mind-control device on her?_

Biggs, rather stupidly, said, "Well, actually, that was Kefka."

 _Oh, and you brought her here as a living weapon so that you could capture me. Well, the name's Tritoch. Or is it Valigarmanda? Dammit, names are the first thing to go when you've spent centuries in a block of ice. Anyway, I'm not impressed as to how you treated the daughter of my old drinking buddy, and I'm gonna show my displeasure_.

A strange blue light bathed the two Magitek Armour riders, and they faded away. "Where did you send them?" Terra asked in her monotone.

 _Well_ …

* * *

" _MAKE ME MORTAL, WILL YOU?!_ " an effeminate man who looked like a cheap ripoff of a Super Saiyan 4 howled as he hurled beams of energy around left, right, and centre. " _MAKE ME KILL THE EIDOLONS?! MOCK MY WARDROBE?! I WORE A THONG OUT OF CHOICE!_ _ **MY**_ _CHOICE! SOCIETAL DEFINITIONS OF FASHION ARE BULLSHIT!_ "

Biggs had just enough time to scream just before an Ultima bolt smashed into his Magitek Armour, Kuja not even noticing as he freaked the fuck out and destroyed Terra. The planet, not the main character…

* * *

"So, the Midlight Shard will be tested?" a young man with long, girly locks of black hair and an aristocratic airing that made him look surprisingly intimidating asked the older, bearded man with the glasses.

"Yes. If my calculations are correct, we will emit a merely powerful stream of Mist, one that we can direct on our foes without our friends suffering. As long as Zecht follows my instructions, I…" Doctor Cidolfas Demen Bunansa, better known as Dr Cid, felt an unaccustomed feeling wash over him. "Oh no."

Vayne Solidor turned away from his telescope in the airship's observatory, and probably just as well. He thought he had seen a man in a massive bipedal machine fall from the skies into Nabudis, and that was insane. "What's the matter, Cid?"

"I divided by zero."

The two men looked at each other, and just before Nabudis (but not themselves) was consumed by a flare of actinic light, they chorused, "Oh, **_sh…!_** "

* * *

 _Nowhere you'd want to be. Anyway, would you like me to remove that Slave Crown from your head?_

"I am not allowed to say whether I want it off or not," Terra intoned.

 _I'll take that as a yes. Just keep in mind, this may sting a little_.

Cyan light played around the green-haired girl. Soon, the cavern was filled with strobing and whirling lights, as if it had become a frankly rather tacky disco. Then, Terra convulsed, which wasn't according to the plan. The Slave Crown exploded, and Terra slumped forward.

… _I think I done goofed_ , the frozen Esper thought to himself.

 **CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, there you have it, the first chapter of** ** _Final Fantasy VI: The Abridged Series_** **. What is probably a pretty poor attempt at doing an abridged series, given the references crammed in and the toilet humour. Hopefully, though, I've made a few of your chuckle. Keep in mind that this is more of an experimental work, so updates will be infrequent at best.**

 **1\. A dog whistle usually falls within a range of 23 to 54 kHz (kilohertz). It's the only joke I'm explaining this chapter.**


	3. Chapter 2: Amnesia for Fun and Profit!

**CHAPTER 2:**

 **AMNESIA FOR FUN AND PROFIT!**

Usually, when one wakes up with a massive headache, foggy memories and nausea, it usually means that a very good time has been had by one's self. True, the consequences of sleeping with a random, possibly repulsive (physically or psychologically) stranger, or else stealing five traffic cones (it's not a good night unless you end up in bed with a traffic cone) and the contents of the nearest sex shop, or both, do tend to mar such things somewhat. But generally, it means a good night, followed by a morning praying to the porcelain shrine of Bilious, the Oh God of Hangovers, and who has a small cult on this world that helps sustain him in his home on the Discworld.

Sadly, in the case of Terra Branford, she didn't have a nice night, unless nice nights involved the murder of dozens of people. It's certainly not a nice night for the people who die. And Terra, although a happy little pyromaniac when under the influence of caffeine (property damage only, thankfully), and an obedient little warmage when under the influence of a Slave Crown, was not the sort of person to enjoy such things.

She could remember her name, and a few scraps of her life as the prisoner in a gilded cage of the Gestahl Empire, but that was it.

With a groan, she opened her eyes, to find an old, moustachioed man leaning over her. Understandably, she reacted out of fright. Most women would try to punch him or push him away. But Terra Branford could set things on fire by will alone, and soon, the man was beating out a burning sleeve from a Fire spell. "Back off, old man, or I'll do worse! Don't make me go all Carrie White on your arse!"

"Hey, hey, take it easy!" the old man said, holding up his arms, one of them currently suffering from first-degree burns. "Look, I just rescued you from the mines!"

"To have your wicked way with me?" Terra snarled.

"No! Anyway, green hair isn't my thing," the old man said.

Terra blinked. Was she just insulted?

"…Anyway, you're up and feisty already," the old man said. He picked up a mangled, twisted coronet. "This little thing here is called a Slave Crown. It basically turns you into a dull, mindless drone incapable of doing anything but following clear orders."

"So, basically, the average corporate worker?" Terra asked.

"…What?"

"Sorry, I have Tangential Mentality Cross-Dimensional Reference Disorder. Basically, that means that I'm aware that this is a poorly written parody of a well-known video game."

The old man looked at her, and then at the Slave Crown, and then back at her. "I think this thing fried more of your brain cells than I thought."

"I am an amnesiac, not an idiot." Terra flinched. "And I have a headache like I went a few rounds with Muhammad Ali. Do you have any paracetamol?"

There was a banging on the door. Not, as one might hope, of an overly enthusiastic couple doing their carnal business right against the door, but rather, of a fist banging on the door. "Open up, Arvis! We're here to collect what's ours!"

"Shit!" Arvis hissed. "Get out of here. Use the back door, head for the mines. You should be safe there."

"Safe…in mines where wooden beams are used to shore up the walls and ceiling?" Terra asked.

"Just get out of here! I'll send someone to get you later."

As Terra left, she heard the guard yell, "I know there's been an attack by the Empire and all, but that's no excuse not to pay the fucking rent! You're two months overdue!"

Terra blinked when she heard that, before deciding that, even if she wasn't the original target of the guards, she soon would be. So she ran like hell.

Sadly, as she ran over a bridge, she was spotted by the Narshe guards. After crossing it, she debated whether to burn the bridge, before deciding that one, it was too cold (with it being so cold, her nipples broke the Moh's Scale of Hardness), and two, she tried not to burn bridges anyway.

She managed to make her way through the caves, groaning as she encountered not-so-random encounters. But eventually, she came to a halt to rest, only to realise she was surrounded by Narshe guards. "Oh, gimme a break," she groaned.

"You're surrounded!" the commander of the small squad yelled.

"Just wait a moment," Terra said. "You're pursuing me, right? A girl who has used magic, right? You've backed me into a corner, right?"

"Your point?" the commander asked.

"You're pissing someone off who can set you aflame with the power of her mind. Does that sound like a good idea?"

"Bitch, _please_ ," the commander said, and all around him, the guards pulled out red cylinders with hoses and nozzles attached. "That's what the fire extinguishers are for."

Terra blinked. After a moment, she backed away, saying, "Guess you got me there. Look, I don't even like the Gestahl Empire. I had to have a Slave Crown to get me to do their bidding."

"That's what they all say," the commander said. "Anyway, given what you and those two Magitek riders did to our town, we're going to have to have you…pay the bill. On a payment plan."

"…Like how?" Terra asked, not liking where this conversation was going.

"Oh, sweeping the streets, lighting fires, menial work," the commander said. "What did you think we were…? Oh, no, not that! We won't make you prostitute yourself to pay off your debt! I'm a debt collector, not a pimp!"

"…A debt collector? Then what are you doing leading a squad of Narshe's militia?"

"This is a backwards hick town where the standard recreations are writing your name in the snow with your piss, incest, and coal mining. Two jobs helps with the rent, frankly."

There was only one thing Terra could say to that. "Oh." Then, as Terra backed up another step, she added, " _SHIIIIITTTTT!_ "

Of course, this was because she had accidentally stepped backwards into a hole, a hole that caused her to plummet into a room below. The landing gave her a concussion, and made her fall, conveniently, unconscious, a damsel in distress awaiting her knight in shining armour.

Or at least blue denim and a bandanna…

* * *

Terra looked around at the dark void surrounding her. She looked around, confused. "What happened? What is this? Am I dead? I don't _feel_ dead, but how would I know?" She scowled. "If this is what it's like to be dead, _then being dead sucks!_ "

"Nah, you're not dead."

She whirled to face the speaker. Her angry retort died on her lips. The man standing there was, well, hot, in a boyish kind of way, dressed in a semi-military uniform, with a massive sword on his back (and he somehow managed to avoid looking like he was compensating for something, an astonishing feat). He had spiky black hair and boyishly handsome features.

"Umm, who are you?" Terra asked.

"I'm Zack Fair, and I'll be the mysterious voice in your head for this adventure," he said cheerfully. "Helping guide you through fucked-up flashbacks and messy memories."

"…Aren't you in the wrong game?" Terra asked.

"Yeah, but, well, Aerith and I…we're having a trial separation," Zack said, his face falling, and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "It's not like we had a fight or anything, despite me discovering those slashfics she favourited…many of them involving me….no, it's more like we've been drifting apart. That, and she's pissed about how Team Four Star have basically portrayed her as a scatterbrained hippie child. Anyway, we got the call from upstairs to be a spirit guide to you. We flipped a coin, and, well, I took the job. Just as well, too. She's engaged in a war of sorts with Team Four Star."

* * *

"AERITH! DEPLOY AN ÜBERCHARGE NOW!" Wedge howled.

"Okay!" Aerith said with a vicious grin.

As Wedge's Heavy and Aerith's Medic were made invincible, Jessie and Biggs (playing a Pyro and a Scout respectively) made their own moves, while Angeal played a Demoknight. It was the Lifestream Warriors versus Team Four Star in a game of _Team Fortress 2_ …and the Lifestream Warriors were winning.

Even better, they were curbstomping the abridgers.

Revenge was so sweet.

"Whose mother is a pothead now, Antfish?!" Aerith said, a vicious grin still plastered over her features. "Even getting Kira Buckland to voice me won't save you!"

* * *

"Anyway, enough of that. Would you like a flashback, an enigmatic utterance that requires clarification to be of any use, or a precognitive nightmare?" Zack asked.

"…Umm, are there only those options?"

"Yeah, afraid so. Union rules."

"…There's a union for spirit guides?"

"Yeah. Well, it's either that, or we get run ragged by the higher-ups."

"…I think I'll take the flashback, then."

"Okay." Zack pulled out a bunch of what looked like pirated DVDs. "Hmm, let's see… _Madeline and Maduin's Sex Tapes_? Hmmm, spoilers, plus, might be traumatising to see your parents going at it."

"You what?"

Zack hurriedly changed the subject. "Umm, _Kefka Changes Terra's Diapers_ …hmm, better save that for another time, I think that's a funny one. Better save it for when you need a laugh."

"I _do_ need a laugh," Terra pointed out.

"Trust me, this is stuff you want to save for a rainy day, and at the moment, it's not even a light drizzle."

"…Is it going to be that bad?"

"Worse. Take it from someone who managed to get his own game. Being a main character in a JRPG means that life craps on you from a great height. You're either inordinately cheerful, or an emo basket case. Believe me, you do NOT want to end up like that Lightning chick." Zack pulled out another DVD. "Yeah, _The Day Gestahl's Beard Got Singed_ is another rainy day one. Hang on, what's this? _Doctor Who: Fury from the Deep_? Huh. Better get the BBC on the line later. Let them know I've found one of their missing stories. Ah, here we go. _Terra's First Slave Crown_ ," Zack said.

He put the DVD into a player that had inexplicably appeared out of thin air, along with a television. On the screen, Terra saw Kefka coming over to her in her rooms in Vector. " _Terra, my dear, I have a little present for you._ "

" _A present? Knowing you, it'll probably release cyanide or something._ "

" _No, no, no. We're having a debutante ball tonight, and as part of it, we're going to dress you up. This is the tiara I want you to wear. You'll be the prettiest girl at the ball._ "

Terra facepalmed at the vision of her slightly-younger self getting fooled so quickly, snatching the Slave Crown from the box and putting it on her head. Then again, she always wanted to do a bit of dancing at a ball.

Well, hindsight was 20/20, as they say. And a real bitch to boot.

Once the Slave Crown settled over her brow, Terra's eyes dulled. In a monotone, she said, " _Where are the rest of my clothes for the ball?_ "

" _Oh, we'll provide them to you soon enough_ ," Kefka said. " _But first, we need to have you act as a dance instructor. There's a few here who are due to dance the Hemp Fandango, but I think you can teach them to do the Flame-Enco!_ "

" _Understood._ "

Then, there was a change of scenery. On top of the Imperial Palace of Vector, Emperor Gestahl, a long-bearded old fart in a stupid hat and robes (thus making him look like an evil Dumbledore, if Dumbledore became a fascist dictator of a fantasy land), began reading from badly-concealed notes. Flanking him was a dark-skinned man by the name of General Leo, a blonde-haired woman with a cape and a leotard (and thus fulfilling all the necessities of combat for a warrior woman in a fantasy world) called General Celes, Kefka, and Terra.

Gestahl cleared his throat, before reading from his notes. " _Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…_ " He scowled as a wave of laughter came from the soldiers gathered in front of him. " _Kefka, did you swap my notes with those I had for that wedding I officiated?_ "

" _You might think that, I couldn't possibly comment_ ," Kefka said. " _In public speaking, and especially with motivational speeches, it's always a good thing to start with a joke._ "

" _As much as that is true, Kefka, we're embarking on a campaign of conquest, not opening a dinner party_ ," Celes snarked.

"Shut up, blondie!" Kefka snapped.

General Leo rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

Eventually, after perusing his notes and finding nothing salvageable, Gestahl threw them over his shoulder. " _Fuck it, we'll do it live_ ," he muttered. Then, in a much louder voice, he declared, " _WE HAVE MAGIC! THE REST OF THE WORLD DOESN'T! SO LET'S KICK THEIR COLLECTIVE ARSES!_ "

Laconic and profane it might have been, but it certainly did have the desired effect. A massive cheer erupted from the soldiers gathered before Gestahl. Terra saw her past self say something, and while it was drowned out by the noise, she knew what she was saying, in that dead monotone: " _This is the weirdest debutante ball I've been to in my life._ "

Terra watched as the video ended, before saying, "The sad thing is, they're not complete idiots when it comes to trying to conquer the world."

"Yeah, like Shinra," Zack said. "Anyway, that's all I've got time for. Sorry. Union rules. But I'll be back before long. Now, you'll have to wait for a while before you get rescued. Don't worry, you'll be rescued by a thief and about a dozen Moogles."

As Zack faded into the darkness, Terra, despite loving Moogles as much as she could without having a fetish, muttered disconsolately, "I'm screwed."

 **CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And there you have it: Terra's escape into the Narshe mines. I was hoping to fit a bit of Locke into it, but the conversation with the Narshe militia commander and the whole thing with Zack ran away with itself. I'm also a bit more satisfied with this chapter, given that there's less scatological jokes.**

 **It'll be a while before the next chapter. In the meantime, feel free to check out my other stories. I have two crossovers with** ** _Final Fantasy VI_** **:** ** _Esper Child_** **(a crossover with Harry Potter) and** ** _Tuebor_** **(a crossover with** ** _Doctor Who_** **). If you want another** ** _Final Fantasy_** **fic that will make you laugh, try** ** _Nitimur in Vetitum_** **, where a Master of Death Harry Potter ends up in Ivalice, and begins shaking things up, starting with Eruyt Village.**

 **And before you guys start flaming me, not only do I love Team Four Star's work, I love** ** _Final Fantasy VII Machinabridged_** **, and their portrayal of Aerith (Tifa's portrayal is another matter entirely, though from episode 6 onwards, she improves drastically). And I'm also a fan of Zack/Aerith. The things that I did in the previous chapter were for comic effect. Hopefully, they made you laugh more than they made you want to flame me to a crisp.**

 **No numbered annotations this chapter. And for those of you wanting to understand the references in this chapter, well, all I have to say is the medical acronym AMYOYO.**


	4. Chapter 3: Don't Fuck With Moogles, Kupo

**CHAPTER 3:**

 **DON'T FUCK WITH MOOGLES, KUPO!**

Locke Cole was many things. While he preferred the euphemism treasure hunter, he was a thief, a tomb raider, a Chocobo rustler, a legendary larcenist (literally in some regards: he had stolen rare tomes of legends of the War of the Magi), a book bandit, a jewel-jacker, and pretty much a thieving magpie of the highest order. He liked to view himself as a Robin Hood figure, though as he was no sufferer of Deadpool Syndrome, he didn't know the name of Robin Hood. He stole from the rich, and gave it to the more deserving, either the poor, or the Returners, of which he was the 'Primary Covert Acquisitions Officer'. Oh, and he was the 'Primary Figaro Liaison Officer', which was less euphemistic. What his positions meant (frigging Banon using officious big words to describe his duties!) was that he stole anything not nailed down, and gave useful equipment and a good chunk of money to the Returners, as well as liaising with King Edgar of Figaro, aka the Legendary Lech of the Desert.

Besides a thief, he was also, unknown to all but a small selection of his friends, lovelorn. While he channelled his kleptomania into a life of thievery, he channelled his regrets (as well as his anxieties about his obsession with Rachel bordering on the necrophilic) into a chivalric attitude. In short, because his lover was almost dead, and had been almost dead for some time (thanks to a strange combination of dubious herbs and magic spells, though Locke suspected that herbalist in Kohlingen spent most of the money he was sent on 'herbal inhalants'), he tried to protect any pretty girl he came across who was in trouble.

Even if they tried to stick a sword right up his jacksie. Though once they made the attempt, he would decide that they could look after themselves.

He was no knight in shining armour. Rather, he was a thief with a denim vest, denim trousers, a white shirt, and a cursed bandanna. His handsome features, framed by sandy-blonde hair, added to his dashing rogue nature.

Due to the Esper being uncovered in Narshe, he had been sent by the Returners to find some way of securing it, even taking it back. As he snuck through the streets of Narshe (he snuck through places anyway on general principle, but given that Narshe seemed to be on high alert, and not because the Elder of Narshe had gotten a hold of 'herbal inhalants'), he noticed a lot of bodies of men and beasts, the stink of shit in the air, and more than a few buildings on fire. So, only slightly different to Narshe than usual: after a good bar fight, the only thing different were that there were fewer bodies and fires.

Locke eventually reached the house of Arvis, and then, in front of the door, knelt to one knee. "This is Snake. I'm in position," he said, in a rasping growl of a voice, the voice of a man who had smoked too many cigarettes, and was probably in danger of lung cancer later in life. "Commencing Operation N313." Suddenly, he shook his head, and got to his feet.

"Locke?" Arvis asked. "Is that bandanna still giving you grief?"

Locke just said, in a voice that was a clear tenor, a far cry from the rasping growl it was earlier, "Just open the door, Arvis."

Arvis did so, letting the thief inside. "You should get rid of that thing, you know."

"Look, it's helpful for letting me sneak around. Plus, the spirit inhabiting it is kind of helpful. I just wish he didn't possess me at odd moments. So, how're we going to do this?"

"Actually, there's been a change of plan," Arvis said. "One of the Magitek riders the Empire sent was the one we heard rumours of."

"What do you mean?"

Arvis chucked over a magazine. Locke looked at it and blushed. " _Chicks in Chainmail: Special Gestahl Empire Edition?_ Arvis, I like this magazine as much as you do, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Miss October."

"What, the one with the green hair?" He opened up the magazine and turned to Miss October, who had apparently just turned 18, and thus, the Gestahl Empire could photograph her (and Celes) naked without repercussions. Hey, even totalitarian dictatorships had to be wary of the laws governing pornography. "Yeah, I thought it odd. She either dyes down there, or she's a natural greenette. Don't like that tiara thing she's wearing, looks tacky. I prefer that Celes chick. Even so, if she wasn't one of the Gestahl Empire's top generals, and I wasn't looking for Phoenix, I'd be on Celes like the Veldt Feral Kid on dried meat."

"Veldt Feral Kid?" Arvis asked.

"Yeah, some feral kid's been spotted running around the Veldt and stealing food from travellers."

* * *

On the Veldt, a boy clad in animal skins sneezed a couple of times. "Awoo…Gau either get cold, or people talking smack about Gau behind Gau's back. And why does Gau speak in third person? Gau not know."

* * *

"So, why did you want to show me this? I mean, she's hot and all. Literally, if this article is telling the truth. ' _HOT STUFF: The Gestahl Empire's Very Own Mage! Terra may look like the girl next door with her hair dyed green, but you'd better keep your distance! She can set you on fire with her mind!_ ' Seriously?"

"Oh, it's true," Arvis said, patting his charred sleeve. "She nearly set me ablaze. I considered asking her to autograph the magazine, but thought better of it."

"Wait, what?"

"Okay, long story short, Terra Branford came to Narshe riding Magitek Armour along with a couple of Gestahl Empire redshirts. They came here to pinch the Esper. Now, for some reason, they're missing, she's an amnesiac, and the Narshe Militia are after her. Now, I think she'd be a useful boon for the Returners."

"…Why?"

"Well, she can use magic, she probably hates the Empire for brainwashing her, and if all else fails, you can get her to pose for _Chicks in Chainmail_ when they do a special on the Returners."

"They're doing a special on the Returners?"

"I've talked to the publishers. They're willing to do one on the Returners. Hell, they even did a special for the ladies."

He tossed Locke another magazine, who opened it. And regretted it immediately. "GAH! MY EYES! THEY'RE SCARRED FOR LIFE!"

"Ah, yes. Sorry, Kefka wanted to do the centrefold. I needed five bottles of the local moonshine to erase that mental image. Of course, the one of Emperor Gestahl is even worse."

"How much worse?"

"Eleven bottles. Leo's not bad, if you're into men. Unfortunately, when the Narshe Militia burst in here a few minutes ago, one of them tore out the page with Leo."

"Why would you have this magazine?"

"Bribes. For the women and…those men who bat for the same team, shall we say? Plus, mentally scarring people with Kefka and Gestahl naked is pretty funny."

"Not if you see it yourself!" Locke snarled. "So, I've got to retrieve Terra, take her to the Returners?"

"Yeah. I'd stop at Castle Figaro first, though. I heard Edgar wants her autograph. Head to the Narshe Mines, she should be in hiding there."

* * *

It took Locke a lot less time than he would have thought to find Terra. No encounters with the Narshe Militia, no random encounters with monsters, the only problem being that Snake tried to take possession of him to smoke a cigarette. The ghost haunting the bandanna was useful, but sometimes, he was a pain in the arse.

As he found the hole Terra had fallen through, he smiled as he saw her unconscious body below…surrounded by Moogles.

"Oh boy, it's Miss October, _kupo!_ " one of them yelped.

"Careful, she might set your pompom on fire, _kupo!_ " another cautioned.

"So, what do we do?"

"Wait until she wakes up, and then ask for her autograph, _kupo!_ "

"What if someone drops in, _kupo?_ "

Locke took that as his cue, allowing Snake to take control as he landed right next to her…and on the toes of one Moogle. "Kept you waiting, huh?" Snake drawled through Locke's mouth. He then took his foot off that of the Moogle, who hopped around in pain. "Sorry about that," Locke said when he regained control.

"That fucking hurt, _kupo!_ " the Moogle yelled.

"Sorry. Anyway, why would Moogles read _Chicks in Chainmail_ , anyway?"

As one, the Moogles said, in a tone fooling nobody, "For the articles."

"Right," Locke said in a tone suggesting scepticism. "And not for the naked ladies?"

"Well, Mogrich over there reads the _Chaps in Chainmail_ edition. He thought Kefka was pretty."

There was only one sane response to that, and Locke uttered it. "What."

"THERE SHE IS!" This wasn't uttered by Locke, but rather, by a fairly large mob of Narshe Militia, having managed to make their way through the labyrinthine passages of the Narshe Mines.

Snake took control of Locke long enough to get a dagger out, smiling. "It's showtime," he rasped. When Locke took back control, he looked at the Moogles. "Can you fight?"

"We're cute, fluffy critters whom people either want to hug us and touch our pom-poms, or else monsters want to chow down on us, make Moogle Mince, _kupo!_ " The Moogles pulled out weapons. Rather nasty, vicious-looking ones. "We can fight pretty fucking well, _kupo!_ "

"Oh?" The second-in-command of the Narshe Militia said, stepping forward. "What are you going to do, sprinkle fairy dust on us?" he sneered.

The leader of the Militia squad, however, was backing away, gesturing for the others to do so. A few heeded him. They were the smart ones, and the lucky ones.

"No. We're gonna wreck your shit, _kupo!_ PROTECT THE GREEN-HAIRED MISS OCTOBER! PROTECT THE BOOBIES, _KUPO!_ "

* * *

The battle that passed was short, bloody, and would stay on the tongues of many a Narshe resident for weeks afterwards (and in the case of one Militia member who got attacked by a Moogle wielding tongue-piercing equipment, quite literally). The members of the Militia were either dead, or retreating, licking their wounds (in some cases, quite literally, as one of the Moogles was a dab hand with a weaponised piping bag(1)), while Locke pumped his fist. He thought it odd that the Moogles had said 'protect the boobies', though. Terra's breasts were somewhat modest, even in the centrefold in the magazine.

An unconscious Terra chose that moment to stir, sitting up, her eyes blinking. "Umm…"

That was as far as she got, before she was suddenly surrounded by Moogles. "Sign my magazine, _kupo!_ "

"Please, you're my favourite pin-up!"

"I love green hair, _kupo!_ "

Terra looked at the proffered magazines, before asking, "What fresh hell is this?"

"You posed nude for _Chicks in Chainmail_ ," Locke said. "The Moogles love you for it."

"Oh. Um…that's…sweet, I guess?" Terra said uncertainly. "Umm, if I give you autographs, can I hug you and ruffle your pom-poms?"

The Moogles' eyes widened, before one of them said, "Okay, guys, line up in an orderly fashion, _kupo!_ And try not to get nosebleeds all over her clothes."

"Nosebleeds?" Terra asked.

* * *

Terra looked down at her clothes, at the Moogle blood staining them. One had erupted into a nosebleed geyser. "I need a dry cleaner. I don't even remember posing for _Chicks in Chainmail_."

"Hey, Moogle blood's good luck if the Moogle gave it willingly," Locke said. "You don't seem that worried about having posed nude for a magazine and not remembered it."

"If what I heard is true, posing nude for _Chicks in Chainmail_ is not the worst thing that happened to me in my life," Terra remarked as they exited through a secret passage of the Narshe Mines. "Then again, maybe that's something I should be grateful to the plot-convenient amnesia for. Besides, that's without going into the fanart of me."

"The what?"

"Never mind. So, Mr Cole…why am I going with you? I mean, besides to escape the lecherous Moogles and to advance the plot of the game further?"

"Oh, well, uh…a good friend of mine wants your autograph too. He's a King."

"A King? A thief knows a King?"

"I am a _treasure hunter_ ," Locke said firmly but kindly, as if trying to correct a slow child who thought that two and two equalled in Base 10, contrary to all known laws of mathematics, 5.

"And I'm a ballerina." Then, Terra blinked. She could very well have done some ballet, for all she knew. Frigging amnesia.

"Really? You've got the figure for it…well, not emaciated. Anyway, I also wanted to see if you wanted to join the Returners."

Terra shrugged. "Why not? I mean, it's not like I can progress in the game unless I say yes to Banon, can I? Besides, there's a certain clown whose little Pierrot I want to invite to a barbeque."

Locke looked at her, before he said, "You're scary, you know that? Pretty, but scary."

"Don't worry. I know you're taken. By the way, Celes likes roses(2)."

"What?"

"Trust me."

Locke looked at her, before shrugging. And with that, the pair of them set off from the coldness of Narshe, heading for warmer climes. Unfortunately, Terra wasn't quite ready to head to a bloody desert…

 **CHAPTER 3 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **This chapter is dedicated to LCT-fn-666 and Literary-Disaster, whose reviews, where I had brightened their days, was some of the best praise for this story. It was Literary-Disaster's review in particular that spurred me to write this chapter. I hope this chapter brightens your day, and hopefully, that of others.**

 **That being said, sorry to be pedantic, Literary-Disaster, but it's irreverent humour. Then again, some of the humour is irrelevant. That's what makes it more fun. :)**

 **For some reason, Solid Snake is haunting Locke's bandanna. I blame the fact that I was listening to a very excellent orchestral remix of** ** _Theme of Tara_** **and** ** _Red Alert_** **from the original** ** _Metal Gear_** **by André Colares on YouTube. As for how Solid Snake came to haunt Locke's bandanna, I will reveal that in a later chapter that I may not get around to writing. Maybe I might even do a "** ** _Snake? SNAKE! SNAAAAAAAKE!_** **" moment…**

 **It'll be some time before another chapter is posted, but hopefully, this one will tide you over. If not, try some of my other humorous works…**

 ** _Is Your Great-Aunt an A.I?!_** **(Harry Potter/** ** _Portal_** **): What happens when Harry Potter is raised in Aperture by GLaDOS and Chell? GLaDOS was once Harry's great-aunt Caroline Evans.**

 ** _Nitimur in Vetitum_** **(Harry Potter/** ** _Final Fantasy XII_** **): Master of Death Harry, in Ivalice, paired with Mjrn, and immortal? What can possibly go wrong? Latest chapter involves a Prank War that has consumed all of Ivalice…**

 ** _Newport Mage_** **(Harry Potter/** ** _Ghost in the Shell_** **): Another Master of Death Harry, this time paired up with Motoko Kusanagi in the manga universe of** ** _Ghost in the Shell_** **, switching between humour and serious adventure.**

 ** _Resident Evil: Basilisk_** **(Harry Potter/** ** _Resident Evil 5_** **): A post-Hogwarts Harry, involved in the events of** ** _Resident Evil 5_** **after being captured by Wesker and escaping with Jill. Funny because it's written from Harry's rather sarcastic viewpoint.**

 ** _Truth and Consequences_** **(Harry Potter/** ** _Fullmetal Alchemist_** **): Harry and Luna end up in Amestris. There, they have adventures, including capturing Isaac McDougal, having a threesome with Lust, and finding Dementor Poop. Or is that Philosopher Stones?**

 ** _Puella Magi Luna Magica_** **(Harry Potter/** ** _Puella Magi Madoka Magica_** **): A two-shot involving Luna making a deal with an Incubator…except that it's the Incubator who got the raw deal.**

 ** _The UNIT Bulletin Board_** **(** ** _Doctor Who_** **): The whacky hijinks of UNIT in the classic series of** ** _Doctor Who_** **, in notices from the Brigadier to his staff.**

 ** _Hooked on a Feeling_** **(** ** _Borderlands_** **): The first part of my self-insert series** ** _The Ballad of Ricky and Angel_** **, with romance, drama, humour, and mad science!**

 **And now, for two annotations.**

 **1\. I thought this thing had a special name or something, but no, it's either 'piping bag' or 'pastry bag'. It's the thing chefs use on cakes and confectionary to pipe icing and crap on.**

 **2\. No, really. I looked it up on the Final Fantasy Wiki. Must've come from a manual or an Ultimania Guide or something.**


	5. Chapter 4: The Priapic Horror

**CHAPTER 4:**

 **THE PRIAPIC HORROR**

"I have an announcement to make," Terra said. "I. Fucking. Hate. The. DESERT."

"Yeah, so do I. You know what I also hate?" Locke asked. "Complaining. Not when I'm doing it, mind, but when others are doing it. And that's the fifty-seventh time you've said that since we started crossing the desert."

"Sixty-third time," Terra corrected him as she nearly tripped over a bleached bone of some unfortunate animal who died of dehydration, the local monsters, heatstroke, or, in her opinion, complete and utter boredom. "I mumbled some of them."

"Look, it's not that far to Figaro Castle."

"If you're riding a Chocobo," Terra scowled. "Or Magitek Armour." She frowned as something occurred to her, and then looked at the fourth wall. "Oi, Quatermass! I thought this was meant to be ' _Final Fantasy VI: The_ _ **Abridged**_ _Series_ '. But we're going through the story at a fucking snail's pace! This doesn't seem very 'abridged' to me. We'd be on the Floating Continent by now if it was!"

"Who're you talking to?"

"The writer, obviously." Suddenly, a page of paper appears out of thin air. She snatched it up and read it.

 _Dear Terra,_

 _Yeah, sorry about that. Listen, 'the Abridged Series' suggests a certain comedic style rather than necessarily abridging a work. Let's face it, although a lot of abridgers make their chosen series shorter and stuff, they also take a long time to do episodes. Of course, this is frequently with good reason, in order to ensure high quality. Incidentally, to the 'wen Broly' crowd, to modify the words of Neil Gaiman regarding George RR Martin,_ _TEAM FOUR STAR IS_ _ **NOT**_ _YOUR BITCH!_

 _Now, where was I before the tangent? Ah, yes. If you want, consider it this way. At least I cut out all the grinding a lot of players do in J-RPGs. That's a sort of Abridging, I guess. You don't want to go through all that, right?_

 _BTW, you're my personal favourite female lead in the_ Final Fantasy _games. Sorry about the whole_ Chicks in Chainmail _thing._

 _Yours,_

 _Quatermass_

Terra sighed, before she said, "Look, I'll forgive you for that _Chicks in Chainmail_ thing if you get us to Figaro Castle right now."

"Yep, she's gone crazy from dehydration," Locke muttered…

* * *

…Only to blink when, through a character-requested _deus ex machina_ from the author, he was in the throne room of Figaro Castle. "Whoa, what the fuck?!"

"Locke?!" yelped a handsome, blonde-haired man dressed in regal clothes. "How did you suddenly appear in my throne room?"

" _Deus ex machina_ ," Terra said.

"…Gesundheit?" the blonde man asked tentatively.

"She's like that, Edgar," Locke said. "Anyway, introductions. Terra Branford, this is King Edgar of Figaro, noted lech, has a sexual harassment rap sheet as long as my arm, and a brilliant engineer. Edgar, this is Terra Branford, former soldier of the Gestahl Empire, pyromaniac witch, and Miss October in that special edition of _Chicks in Chainmail_."

"Ah, _enchanté_ ," Edgar said, swaggering down from his throne. "I am very honoured to meet you, Miss Branford. Welcome to my humble desert domicile, a glittering oasis in the middle of the hot sands. And, unlike what Locke likes to say, I am a classy connoisseur of the female form."

"And you're hitting on a young woman with amnesia who can set you on fire with a gesture, and whom you've probably enjoyed looking at my picture in _Chicks in Chainmail?_ " Terra said, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, as long as they're good-looking, over eighteen, and capable of giving consent, I'll hit on anyone I want," Edgar said. "Hell, I even let them hit me back. Incidentally, if you ever get bruised in battle, I know a really good cream. Believe me, I've been slapped enough times to know what works."

"Are you a masochist?" Terra asked.

"I'm into anything legal if it gets me into bed with a woman," Edgar said with a grin.

"…Royalty is fucking weird," Terra muttered. "Then again, he's rich and inbred enough to afford it."

"Hey! I am NOT inbred! My father married a nice woman from Zozo! My mother tried to steal his crown while he was visiting Jidoor." Looking at them staring at him in astonishment, he shrugged. "What? Successful relationships have had much more rocky starts than that! She became my father's Primary Covert Acquisitions Officer."

Locke peered at Edgar, before asking, "Did Banon take lessons from your father?"

"More the other way around," Edgar said. "Believe me, until my mother named us, I was Potential Heir Alpha and Sabin was Potential Heir Beta. And even then, for some weird reason, my mother wanted to call Sabin Mash. And she wanted to call me Bangers. It was her favourite meal. Thankfully, the chamberlain managed to persuade her otherwise."

"…I stand by my comment. Royalty is fucking weird," Terra said.

Before Edgar could reply in any manner, scathing or not, a guard came in, looking horrified. "Your Majesty, General Kefka is approaching the castle!"

Edgar frowned. "Oh, great. How bad is it?"

"…He's naked, sir. And priapic."

" _Shit._ "

"What's priapic?" Locke asked.

Terra grimaced. "Did you see his centrefold?"

"Uhh, yeah, that shit stays with you forever."

"But he wasn't… _hard_ , if you get my meaning?"

"Well, no, but…oh. Oh, _shit_." Locke clutched his head and grimaced. "Is his little wizard standing to attention?"

"It was a bloody big wizard, which you'd know if you looked at the centrefold for long enough, and yes. Though I still call it his little Pierrot. And the thing is, the only thing that gets him so excited is imminent destruction," Terra said.

"Okay, one, that's fucked up. Two, I didn't want to look at his centrefold any longer than necessary, so I don't know or care how big his dick is. And three, I don't _want_ to know."

"Believe me, he does this about one in every three visits," Edgar said. "It's psychological warfare, trying to scar our psyches with that image. But even so, there are carpet pythons smaller than that. How did he get it to be so large?"

"One of the few things I remember from my time in the Gestahl Empire was a rumour I heard. One of the first things he did upon getting magic was to enlarge it," Terra said with a grimace. "Apparently it was the lack of blood to his brain when it went downstairs was what drove him insane. Personally, I just reckon it was the power."

Edgar sighed, before he went to an intercom on the wall. "King Edgar to the Castle Guard. Has Kefka put any pants on yet?"

" _Uhh, we don't know sir. We've closed our eyes so that we don't have to see the maddening sight._ "

"Well, dammit man, one of you do that! I'm not receiving him until he's clothed."

A sigh from the guard. " _Just a moment. Just looking right…OH GOD NO! NO! IT'S MADDENING! MADDENING! MY HIPPOCAMPUS IS OPEN TO THE INFINITE! MY POOR THAMALUS IS LEAKING THROUGH THE QUANTUM FOAM!_ _ **PHN'GLUI MGLW'NAFH SAKAGUCHI MISTWALKER WGAH'NAGL FHTAGN!**_ "

"…He's put his underpants back on at least," Edgar decided.

"How do you know?" Locke asked.

"The guard's only speaking in tongues. If Kefka's still naked and close enough to the castle, we'd have tentacles all over the place. And let me tell you, since that incident with that live octopus supper on my tenth birthday, I am NOT a fan of tentacles…"

* * *

In the Lethe River, a massive purple octopus sneezed twice. "Ooh, is someone speaking about me?" Ultros burbled. "It's been a long time since that birthday dinner with Edgar. He should have known better than to try and eat me alive…"

* * *

"Ahh, I feel so much better," Kefka said, draping his robes around himself. "I needed a tan all-round, and what better way to get it than to traumatise the enemy? Vitamin D AND psychological warfare, all in one package!"

"Umm…what about us, General Kefka?" one of the soldiers accompanying him asked. He at least had a visor to help mask most of the horror that was a naked Kefka, but it still made him vomit.

"Meh, you're mooks. Expendable units of the vast, great, powerful, and glorious Gestahl Imperial Army," Kefka said. "Besides, you should be honoured to see my vast, great, powerful, and glorious member!"

Another mook, with not enough common sense to throttle his curiosity, asked, "How the hell do you fit it all into your clothes?"

"Well, I could say that I do a bit of tucking…but I will spare your sensibilities for the moment. I use a subspace pocket. Hush now, for I need to engage in some diplomacy."

He walked up to the gates of Figaro Castle, and looked around for the guards. One of them was curled up in the corner, muttering eldritch words to himself. Kefka hauled the man to his feet. "Hey, hey, hey, as much as I'd like to summon unfathomable horrors from beyond space and time as we know it to destroy the world, I don't want you beating me to the punch! Pull up your sanity, tighten up your resolve, and go and fetch me King Edgar!"

" _FHTAGN!_ " the guard wailed, before scrambling away.

Soon, Edgar emerged. "So, what brings Kefka to Figaro Castle? I mean, beyond traumatising my men?"

"What other reason would I need?" Kefka said with a vicious smile. "I mean, I'm a capricious villain with a penchant for chaos, violence, death, destruction, and Mills and Boon books." His face setting into a more serious expression, he said, "As it is, I have another reason for being here. One of our soldiers has deserted, a girl with green hair by the name of Terra Branford."

"And what makes you think she is here?"

Kefka smirked. "I looked it up on the Final Fantasy Wiki."

"What?"

"Never mind. Just hand her over, or I'll get serious."

Edgar blinked, before saying, "Seriously, what's a whicky? Kefka, she isn't here. Do you think I'd let Miss October get away so easily? And if I did have her, why would you think I would let her go? I mean, I've always wanted to start a _Chicks in Chainmail_ -themed harem!"

"I'll trade Celes Chere for her if you want," Kefka said.

"Whoa, seriously?"

"Seriously." The blonde bitch was getting annoyingly principled of late. Being part of Edgar's harem might be a good punishment for her.

"Well, a shame that I don't have Terra then," Edgar said with his mouth in a moue of disappointment.

"Look, Edgar, I know that you've been helping the Returners on the side. You're just supporting the Empire with token gestures. So hand the fucking girl over, and maybe I won't set Figaro Castle on fire."

"Where'd you learn that libel?"

Kefka smirked. "I looked it up on the Final Fantasy Wiki."

"That thing again? Yeah, you're crazy. Anyway, stone doesn't burn."

"You forget… _people do_." Kefka sent a fireball at a guard, turning him into ashes. "Consider that a trailer for the horror movie to come. 'Sides, a Flare spell can burn stone. I know. I've… _experimented_. When I come back here tomorrow, I want Terra here, ready for me to take back to Vector. Otherwise, I will burn my clothes, then I will burn this castle, and then, I will burn _you_."

* * *

Terra and Locke, who watched Kefka prance away laughing from a battlement, grimaced. "We need a plan," Locke said.

"I have a plan," Terra said. "We need coffee. Very strong coffee."

"Why?" Locke asked.

* * *

"WELCOME TO ANOTHER EXCITING EPISODE OF 'EXTREME GLASS-BLOWING'!" Terra yelled, firing Fire spells with gay abandon across the desert. "I'M SHOWING YOU GUYS HOW TO MAKE GLASS FROM DESERT SANDS! ART IS A BLAST, _UN!_ "

Edgar and Locke watched as Terra flung out fireballs at Kefka's minions, causing them to scatter. "She's scary when she's caffeinated," Edgar said.

"Be grateful she's on our side," Locke said.

"But is she?"

"She said last night she'll join the Returners, but only because the story won't progress otherwise," Locke said. On Edgar's baffled look, Locke shrugged. "Yeah, I don't know what she meant either. It's a good thing you got Figaro Castle to sink, otherwise it might have gotten hit in the crossfire. Though I'm a little worried about the Chocobo she's riding."

"Why? It's remaining calm."

"While its rider is flinging fireballs around left, right, and centre. I think that Chocobo could be a pyromaniac. Why else would it be so calm? Unless you give your Chocobos lobotomies."

"No. Too expensive, and they shit everywhere."

"…Don't they normally shit everywhere anyway?"

"Yeah, but usually in neat piles, and in discreet parts."

"Oh. Well, I think she's routed the Imperials, and Kefka is currently trapped in that rather interesting dome-like shape. I think we'd better head for South Figaro." Then, suddenly, Locke seemed to change demeanour. "Wow," he rasped in the voice of Solid Snake. "I haven't seen anyone fling so much fire around since Psycho Mantis had a tantrum."

"That bandanna of yours," Edgar muttered.

Terra rode over on her Chocobo, her eyes wide with glee. She had a bag filled with various glass sculptures she had made during her battle. "I love using fire!" she said with a grin.

"Okay, but…what about the glass sculptures? Why are you bringing them with us?"

"Oh, these? We can sell them at the next town for a lot of Gil! I mean, your castle has submerged, so that's sunken funds, so we need some more cash on hand, right?" She pulled out a rather magnificent one of her naked, looking like the Botticelli Venus, complete with half-shell, though sans nymphs and other fripperies.

Edgar gaped, before saying, "500,000 Gil!"

"Sold," Terra said.

"Would a cheque suffice?"

"As long as your funds don't sink too low, no…"

 **CHAPTER 4 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, I didn't expect to come to this chapter anytime soon. And yet, here we are. One of the prototype chapter titles was 'Edgar, Queen of the Desert', and would have involved a crossdressing joke, but sadly, I didn't think I could do it well enough. Instead, I resorted to dick jokes. That argument I and Terra have about whether this is an Abridged Series was something I thought up, given how slow this story is compared to a usual Abridged Series.**

 **Time for some more shameless plugs. This time, it's for those** ** _Final Fantasy_** **fanfics. Most of these are the pure fanfics, but I will also plug my non-Harry Potter crossovers. Despite the comic plugs of some of them, they're actually serious works.**

 ** _Tuebor_** **: What happens when Jamie McCrimmon and the Eighth Doctor from** ** _Doctor Who_** **end up in the world of** ** _Final Fantasy VI_** **? Read** ** _Tuebor_** **, and find out.**

 ** _La Vita Nuova_** **: What happens when Ultimecia from** ** _Final Fantasy VIII_** **gets a second chance at life…as Rinoa? Rinoa becomes a Sorceress, heads up a charity designed to help Sorceresses, and is angry at SeeD. And yet, she's going to end up with Squall anyway…**

 ** _Anchor of Ultimecia_** **: What happens when Shinji Ikari from** ** _Neon Genesis Evangelion_** **becomes a young Ultimecia's Knight? Wonder no longer…**

 ** _Raison d'Etre_** **: What happens when Mikoto, 'sister' of Zidane, ends up on Gaia by accident? The events of** ** _Final Fantasy IX_** **start to run off the rails…**

 ** _Zidane of Burmecia_** **: What happens when Zidane is raised as Freya's bratty little brother? A surprisingly saner story turns out…**

 ** _Black Mage of Kuoh_** **: What happens when Vivi is reincarnated as Issei Hyoudou from** ** _Highschool DxD_** **? And what happens when he finds he's not the only one from the world of** ** _Final Fantasy IX_** **who's reincarnated?**

 ** _Vincit Qui Patitur_** **: What happens when Seymour isn't a nihilistic douchebag? Turns out, all he needed to be was raised by the Al Bhed…**

 **Review-answering time!** **Literary-Disaster** **: You're welcome. Feel free to read my other humorous works I plugged at the end of Chapter 3 if you're feeling down.**

 **Angel Arcano92** **: I may yet do something along those very lines. Not something I would have thought of, but the thought of Sabin acting in a Might Guy/Rock Lee-like manner is appealing.**

 **F14M3RZ** **: It was endearing, I liked how Team Four Star portrayed Aerith, and I reckon Kira Buckland did a good job. But I also wanted to make a jab at how she was a ditz. And it's not exactly implied she's a** ** _yandere_** **. The 'save game' image at the end of the season pretty much made it blatant.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	6. Chapter 5: Sabin Figaro's Springtime of

**CHAPTER 5:**

 **SABIN FIGARO'S SPRINGTIME OF YOUTH!**

In a bar at South Figaro, a solitary (well, as solitary as you can get with a rather vicious-looking dog nearby) figure drank at a bar. Dressed all in black, with his hood covering almost his entire face, save for his eyes. A large Doberman by his side deterred anyone from approaching. He was the infamous ninja assassin known as Shadow. And he was emo.

 _Nobody knows the trouble I go through_ , Shadow thought, his mental voice (as well as his normal voice) being little more than a dull, lifeless monotone Rei Ayanami would envy, and with Moonlight Sonata playing in the background. _Being a parody of a beloved video game character as well as a reference to an Abridged Series of an Abridged Series. Curse you Quatermass. I will get you back,_ _somehow_.

* * *

In Konoha, a pale-skinned boy with dark hair that looked like a duck's arse sneezed, and thought, _Curse you, person who is talking smack about me behind my back. I will get you back,_ _somehow_.

* * *

It took a moment for Shadow to realise that he could hear his dog Interceptor panting in enjoyment. Not the sort of enjoyment where the panting is as much of carnal exertion as it was of enjoyment. No, this was pure enjoyment.

He turned in his seat to see a green-haired girl patting Interceptor. "Aw, who's a good doggy, eh?" she asked.

"Normally, he eats strangers," Shadow remarked. "It's why I keep him around. So I don't get into awkward social interaction."

"Umm, not to put too fine a point on it," said the girl, "but isn't wearing ninja outfits a major cause of awkward social interaction? You know, with the espionage, the thieving, the assassination?"

"You have a point. I can break someone's neck like a twig, but I cannot break the ice at parties. Unless it's an ice sculpture, and I use my sword. Why are you talking to me?"

"Well, my fourth wall-breaking senses went off near you. I think you cussed out the author."

"He is taking too long with his chapters, and making the characters into shallow parodies of themselves, one dimensional characters, usually ripping off video games, anime series, and Abridged Series."

"Hey, it's an Abridged Series. It's basically the fast-food version of postmodernism," the green-haired girl said. "By the way, is what Ted Woolsey claimed true? That you'd slit your mother's throat for a nickel?"

"No. I would do it for a considerably larger sum of money. I know the value of a human life, down to the nearest Gil. Besides, we don't use nickels here, just Gil."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry to offend you."

"None taken. I would do it for twenty dollars."

* * *

Outside of South Figaro, there was a house on the edge of the woods. It was a nice enough house, scars from martial arts training notwithstanding. Scorch marks and craters from ki blasts, wood splinters from destroyed wooden training posts, and the scratches on crockery from rapid use of chopsticks. There was also a rather large bloodstain on the floor of the house.

Locke looked at the bloodstain, before he dipped his fingers into it and licked it. Edgar, who was watching on, winced. "Oh, do you have to?"

Locke, who channelled Snake again, said, "I used a trick like this once. Ketchup, a rather dumb guard, and the ability to break the ankles of said guard with my bare hands. Unfortunately, he shat all over me when I did so. He had bowel troubles. Got married to my ex. Long story." Locke shook his head, dispelling the possession of Solid Snake, and said, "Yeah, it's tomato sauce. Not actually ketchup, but it's red and looks like blood. I think either someone had an accident, or someone faked their death. Given what we heard in town when we dropped off Terra to sell all those sculptures, it's probably Duncan Harcourt."

"I know, I heard. I also heard what all that training did to Sabin. Duncan was a pretty hardcore trainer, and Sabin was pretty weird even before I let him go play martial artist. But…I have to wonder if what they're saying is true."

"What, that he can do something more traumatising to people than if they see Kefka's dick at full erection? Seriously, I was surprised I didn't go mad when I saw that in _Chaps in Chainmail_."

"Oh, that's because they put an anti-madness filter on the camera lens. They couldn't very well have the cameraman go mad during the photoshoot, could they?"

"Actually," Terra said, as she walked through the front door, "it's because Quatermass didn't think up the whole 'seeing a naked Kefka would drive you insane like seeing Cthulhu' gag until the previous chapter."

"Oh Warring Triad, she's at it again," Locke groaned.

Edgar looked at her. "Hey, we saw you go up to Shadow. How was he?"

"Emo. And cheap. He said he'd kill his mother for twenty dollars. I'm not sure whether to be disturbed at how low a price he'd kill her for, or confused that he used a different currency system to us. He's rather like Sasuke, only cooler. Well, as cool as you can be without a _Sharingan_. Those are pretty cool. They're like a Blue Mage, only with cool red eyes with spinning commas."

Edgar decided not to enquire any further for his sanity's sake. Instead, he asked, "How did you fare getting our supplies?"

Terra grinned, holding up a bag, which, despite having a lot of space on the inside, was bulging from armour and weapons. "Can anyone say…twinking?"

* * *

As they watched the bag fall down from the rope bridge, Locke said, appalled, "Can anyone say…fuck all kinds of duck?"

Terra scowled at Edgar. "You know how much Gil I spent on that high-end equipment? Gil I earned through glass sculptures? You're lucky I kept the Potions and Gil and crap in another bag, one I am keeping on my person at all times now."

"It was an accident, okay?! My arm gets a nervous spasm whenever I'm being stalked by a douchebag."

"No, I reckon you were just clumsy." Terra then looked around. "You have a point, though. My douchebag senses are tingling. Why did we have to take this arduous mountain path, anyway?"

"My brother and his fellow student, Vargas, were last seen heading this way. Plus, it's the only way to the Returners' hideout," Edgar said.

"Yeah, I have to ask," Terra said. "What kind of stupid name is 'the Returners' for a resistance group? I mean, it's almost as bad as NORA or the Timber Owls. At least AVALANCHE sounds badarse."

"Don't you mean badass?"

"You spell it as 'arse'. We're in a pseudo-medieval story, we use British spelling."

"Then why are we speaking with American accents?" Locke blinked. "Wait, what's an American accent?"

"Crap, she's contagious," Edgar said. "Come on, let's get going. Hopefully, we can find my brother before anything worse happens."

* * *

Edgar was cursing his words when they were intercepted by a blue-haired man wearing nothing but trousers, and with more muscles than Heracles from _Fate/Stay Night_. And with about as many anger management issues, judging by the glint of barely-suppressed fury in his eyes.

"So, we have Sabin's pansy king brother, a petty thief, and a green-haired girl who looks like a stiff breeze could knock her over," the man said with a sneer.

Suddenly, his trousers burst into flames, with Terra glaring at him as he beat them out. He accidentally hit himself in a very sensitive spot, went cross-eyed, and only barely stopped himself from collapsing. "I can set people on fire with my mind. I could roast you so that we could have you for dinner, but I don't think any of us are either cannibals, or wanting to die of a steroid overdose."

Vargas, who was overcoming the pain in his groin through sheer force of will, glared at her. "How DARE you! This isn't the work of steroids! It's the result of my father's insane training schedule! Going on about pushups, situps, plenty of juice…I never wanted to be a martial artist. I wanted to be a…"

"Lumberjack?" Locke asked.

"No!"

"A cicisbeo?" Edgar asked.

"What the fuck is a cicisbeo?" Vargas demanded.

"Male mistress," Edgar said.

"Tempting, but no."

"A fanfic writer?" Terra asked.

"Close. I wanted to be a writer…though what the hell is a fanfic?"

"We're in one."

Vargas blinked, before he looked over at Edgar and Locke. "Is she quite sane?" he asked after a moment.

"Define sane," Locke said. "The definition gets pretty soft around here dealing with people like Terra or Kefka."

"I'm right here, you know," Terra said, tapping her foot irritably.

"Believe me, you haven't endured insanity until you've dealt with one of my father's 'Flames of Youth' rants," Vargas said.

Terra, after a moment, put her head in her hands. "Oh dear sweet Quatermass no."

"Don't you mean 'God', or 'Warring Triad'?" Locke asked.

"I know what I said. Vargas…was green spandex involved?"

"No."

"Bowl cuts and eyebrows like some sort of parasitic hairy caterpillar?"

"No. That sounds like I dodged a serious bullet there."

"…Pseudo-manly hugs accompanied by eye-gouging illusions of sunsets?"

"Yes!" Vargas cried out, tears running down his face. "ALL. THE. FUCKING. TIIIIME!" He began bawling. "You don't know what it's like," he whimpered quietly. "That's why I smashed my father over the head with a tomato sauce bottle."

"That was indeed most unyouthful!" bellowed a voice from nearby.

"Oh, fuck all kinds of duck," Vargas and Edgar muttered simultaneously as a burly, muscled figure leapt down to where they were.

He looked like Edgar if he had 100 sit-ups, 100 squat thrusts, and a 10 kilometre run every day, albeit without the hair loss that plagued some people who did that. He also had a disturbingly zealous look on his face, of the sort that religious evangelists would have if, instead of selling religion door-to-door, they sold exercise routines. Oh, and he had the name of a vaccine, but he acted more like a disease.

"…Is that your brother, Edgar?" Terra asked, dreading the answer.

Before Edgar could confirm or deny it, the newcomer said, giving a thumbs-up, "Yes, indeed, I am the Sublime Blonde Beast of Figaro, Sabin Rene Potential Heir Beta Figaro! Please date me! I will defend you with my life!"

After a moment, Terra said, "Flattering, but no. Seriously, how did Yoshitaka Amano create someone like you? He usually does these willowy androgynous types, not bodybuilders."

"…What," Sabin uttered in puzzlement.

"She's like that," Edgar said. "Anyway, what have I told you about asking people on dates when you first meet them?"

"But brother, you do that all the time!" Sabin protested.

"Yes, but I know what I'm doing!"

"That's most unyouthful," Sabin said, pouting miserably.

"Fuck you, and fuck youth!" Vargas snarled, jabbing a finger at Sabin. "You got infected by my father's madness…"

"Actually, your father only made him worse," Edgar said.

"Silence!"

"Isn't it ironic to yell the word silence?"

"Shut up, or I will beat the shit out of you AND your brother. At the moment, I'm willing to just beat up your brother."

"You can try!" Sabin declared enthusiastically, "but the power of youth will always win out! You are no match for youth, for…" He suddenly ceased his little speech, not because he felt the necessity of doing, but because Vargas' fist hit him in the groin at relativistic speed. His eyes crossed, he sagged to the ground, and the noise he uttered was so high-pitched, only the local wildlife could hear it.

Edgar, after a moment, looked at Vargas, a cold fury dancing in his eyes. "Do you know what you just did?"

"Saved us all from another rant about the power of youth," Vargas said, patiently, as if explaining to a retarded child.

"No, you just committed treason. Under Figaro law, any act against a member of the royal family that endangers their procreative ability is a crime punishable by death," Edgar said. "Sabin's still in line to the throne, technically, and you just pulped his testicles. Now, my brother breeding is a bad idea, I will admit, but I thought martial arts would keep him away from women. But you, sir, have assaulted a member of the royal family." Edgar pulled out a massive chainsaw. "And as King of Figaro, I get to choose the punishment." He then pulled the cord a few times with the practised motion of a man who was used to yanking things, and the chainsaw was now a roaring, hungry animal of death. "I love this saw. It's a part of me, and now, it's going to be a part of you. Suck my spinning steel, shithead."

Terra turns to the readers. "It's worth pointing out that using a chainsaw as a weapon is impractical. It's not like the movies or video games. If you try to use it in the wrong way, it can easily kickback, as they put it, and you end up being the one chainsawed. For Quatermass' sake, please, do NOT even consider trying this at home. You aren't Ash Williams. You aren't Leatherface. And you aren't King Edgar. So please don't think about it. Just enjoy fictional works that involve chainsaws being used as weapons, don't actually try to emulate them."

"Umm, Terra?" Locke asked. "You talking to non-existent people aside, you might want to look."

She turned, and found, not the messy chainsaw carnage she expected (and, in a small, crazy, violent part of her mind, desired), but rather, Sabin standing between Vargas and Edgar. "…most unyouthful, I will admit," Sabin said, his voice somewhat higher-pitched than usual, "but you forget, the Harcourt School of Youthful Martial Arts includes the Balls of Steel defence! My ability to procreate is unhampered."

 _Bugger_ , everyone else thought quietly to themselves.

"In any case, before I left, Master Duncan told me that I could join the Returners, and Duncan was to be his heir. Admittedly, I think he was concussed at the time, thanks to the tomato sauce bottle, but even so, I will use my youthful skills to help save the world from the most unyouthful Gestahl Empire!"

"Wait, what? Duncan made me his heir?" Vargas asked.

"Indeed, despite your lack of youthfulness, he recognises your power!" Sabin then sagged, the enthusiasm leaching out of his voice. "Dammit, I can't keep it up any longer. I mean, it's fun, but it's exhausting."

"For you or the author?" Terra asked.

"What?"

"Never mind. So, Vargas, can we pass by?"

After a moment, the hulking martial artist nodded. "As long as you take Sabin far away from here, I don't give a shit what you do."

* * *

As they descended the mountain path, Locke remarked, "That was anticlimactic. I was expecting an epic martial arts battle or something."

"One, Quatermass is crap at battle scenes. Two, sometimes, anticlimaxes are funnier," Terra said. "Anyway, we got out of it with no deaths, well, save for the monsters, and less mental scarring than we anticipated. And as this is a fanfic rather than the actual videogame, we don't need the experience from the battle."

Sabin, Locke, and Edgar all looked at each other, before deciding not to make an issue of it, lest she draw them further into her mad little world with no fourth wall. Still, they reflected, things were looking up. It looked like soon, they were going to get something done.

Unfortunately, there were tentacles in their future. Massive, heliotrope tentacles…

 **CHAPTER 5 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Ah, at last, the latest chapter. Kept you waiting, huh? Blame Angel Arcano92 for the idea of Sabin acting like Rock Lee and Might Guy. He'll do that less in the future, it's pretty exhausting to write like that. More fourth wall breaking in this chapter than any other, I think, too, with Terra talking back to me.**

 **Anyway, when the next chapter comes along…ULTROS! You have been warned. The next chapter is tentatively titled** ** _Tentacles Do NOT Go There_** **.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


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